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This man is Tessa’s best friend.
I have to remind myself of this. This is one of the thousand reasons I have to end this mess between us now. He’s her best, best, best friend in the world, and if I fuck that up, I would never forgive myself.
Tessa has dealt with enough this year, between Hardin’s ruining her life and her not getting into NYU yet. She lost her dad and the love of her life, and I’ve seen the way she leans on Landon for support; if I take Tessa’s rock away, I wouldn’t deserve him anyway.
“Nothing in life is fair.” I bend my knees and duck out of his cage.
I can’t think clearly enough to be anything close to productive when Landon’s this close to me. Every time I step into the elevator in this building, I tell myself, Keep it together. Don’t stare too long, don’t ask Tessa too many questions about him.
I knew I had a problem when, every single time I went to their apartment, I found myself hoping he was inside. The flood of disappointment I felt when he wasn’t there scared the shit out of me, and still does.
“How do you like NYU? Are you excited for your mom to have little Abby? Where would you go if you could fly anywhere, right now?” I ask in a feeble attempt to change the course of the conversation before I end up on my knees in this kitchen.
He glares at me, and I take an extra step away from him. “I like it just fine. Yes, I am. Spain, to go to a Real Madrid game.”
Landon is clearly not amused by my bland questions, and I’m clearly not doing a good job at keeping things platonic. Landon walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a blue Gatorade. I make a face at it, and he smiles at me.
He twists the top open and continues to stare at me. He’s watching me intently, and I can tell he’s concocting something.
“There’s a bonus round to my game.”
Oh, sure there is. “Is there?” I try not to smile at him, but I can’t fight it. “Do tell.”
He leans back against the counter, and I keep a safe space between us. Five feet; that’s safe enough. I back away at least ten more, pretending to need a glass of water.
From this distance I can’t see as clearly how he looks at me. I can’t stare as closely at the masculine curve of his broad shoulders. I can’t obsess over his strong hands and thick fingers. If I keep my distance from him, he won’t be able to tell that I’m itching to touch him.
It’s more than an itch. Itching can be cured by scratching, and my need for him doesn’t have such a simple solution. The feelings I have for Landon will have to be burned from my body to be calmed. A thousand yards of bandages will be needed to dress my wounds.
Landon takes a long drink before he answers. He sets the bottle down on the countertop and faces me. His kitchen feels so damn small.
“Okay, so it goes like this. You have to answer one of your skipped questions, or you lose.”
“Hmm.” I consider this. Lose what, exactly? I look at Landon. This kind, caring, sexy, stained-T-shirt-wearing guy has crept his way into me, and I try to remember which questions I skipped. I skipped the stuff about my last relationship, but that was for Landon’s own good. Okay, it was mostly for my own good, but a little for him, too. I don’t want him to know that side of me.
I also skipped the question about my feelings for him. I really, really shouldn’t answer that.
“You only skipped one question,” I point out.
He nods, knowing damn well that this “bonus round” is designed to work in his favor. He smirks and lifts his drink to his mouth again.
I have to consider that I want him to get to know me. I want him to feel like I’m not going to run if he asks the wrong question at the wrong time. But honestly, I probably would. It would be easier, and for once in my life I would like to take the easy way out of something. We’re playing a dangerous game here, and I’m not ready to lose.
“I’ll answer one,” I tell him.
